Time poems
/ page 224 of 792 /Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
The camp at great Jerusalem arrives:
Temper Of Time
© Sylvia Plath
An ill wind is stalking
While evil stars whir
And all the gold apples
Go bad to the core.
The Skeleton Witness
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ROOTED in soil dull as a dead man's eye,
Dank with decay, yon ghastly oak aspires,
As if in mockery, to the alien sky,
Frowning afar through clouded sunset fires.
The Creole Girl; Or, The Physicians Story
© Caroline Norton
SHE came to England from the island clime
Which lies beyond the far Atlantic wave;
She died in early youth--before her time--
"Peace to her broken heart, and virgin grave!"
II.
Whistling Sam
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
When dey had revival meetin' an' de Lawd's good grace was flowin'
On de groun' dat needed wat'rin' whaih de seeds of good was growin',
While de othahs was a-singin' an' a-shoutin' right an' lef,
You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' kin' o' sof beneaf his bref:
As Good as New
© Henry Lawson
Oh, this is a song for the old foewe have both grown wiser now,
And this is a song for the old foe, and were sorry we had that row;
And this is a song for the old lovethe love that we thought untrue
Oh, this is a song of the dear old love that comes back as good as new.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
Villanelle
© William Ernest Henley
A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Mrs. Moody
© James McIntyre
When this country it was woody,
Its great champion, Mrs. Moody,
She showed she had both pluck and push,
In her work, roughing in the bush.
Puttin' The Baby Away
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
EIGHT of 'em hyeah all tol' an' yet
Dese eyes o' mine is wringin' wet;
The Evening Of The Holiday
© Giacomo Leopardi
The night is mild and clear, and without wind,
And o'er the roofs, and o'er the gardens round
John Marr And Other Sailors
© Herman Melville
Since as in night's deck-watch ye show,
Why, lads, so silent here to me,
The First Of The Angels
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Hush! hush! through the azure expanse of the sky
Comes a low, gentle sound, 'twixt a laugh and a sigh;
And I rise from my writing, and look up on high,
And I kneel, for the first of God's angels is nigh!
Water-Fowl Observed Frequently Over The Lakes Of Rydal And Grasmere
© William Wordsworth
MARK how the feathered tenants of the flood,
With grace of motion that might scarcely seem
Inferior to angelical, prolong
Their curious pastime! shaping in mid air
Dedicatory
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Beauty is One. But that so equal gold,
Run in the apt and kindly difference
Quaker Hill
© Hart Crane
Perspective never withers from their eyes;
They keep that docile edict of the Spring
Unyielding
© Rabindranath Tagore
In the fierce harsh storms of Baisakh,
Golden ripened fruit fell tumbling.
'Dust, I said, 'defiles such offerings:
Let your hands be heaven to them.'
Still you showed no friendliness.
Sickness
© John Crowe Ransom
God plucked him back, and plucked him back,
And did his best to smoothe the pain.
The sick man said it was good to know
That God was true, if prayer was vain.
The Palace of Art
© Alfred Tennyson
And "while the world runs round and round," I said,
"Reign thou apart, a quiet king,
Still as, while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade
Sleeps on his luminous ring."
"The Laurels"
© John Greenleaf Whittier
FROM these wild rocks I look to-day
O'er leagues of dancing waves, and see
The far, low coast-line stretch away
To where our river meets the sea.